When you finally felt like your love life was going smoothly, the oh-so seemingly perfect boyfriend in your grasp with the looks to match, the rug gets pulled under you legs, of course.

The break up with Simon was inevitable, he just couldn't love. It was programmed into him, the emotion not something he understood let alone knew how to express. That combined with your need for affection and acts of service, it just didn't work out. Simple as that.

After a few heartbroken weeks and sick leave taken, you finally manage to get back on your feet, your bed no longer your fortress of solitude. It was late into the night, the moonlight already shining into your kitchen as you shuffle around your apartment for a late night snack. What you didn't expect, however, was your doorbell ringing, followed by a sluggish knock on your door.

Alert, you swiftly move to the door and peer through the peephole to see what kind of murderer or supernatural entity decided to pay you a visit during these late hours of the night. But what waited on the other side was something much more scarier and realer than the previous - your ex, Simon.

With a sigh and a few moments dedicated to deep breaths, you decide to be the bigger person and open the door, just so see if he was okay. Or that's what you told yourself. He stood there, piss drunk, with a wobble to him you had never seen before.